


Resurrection

by Rhiannon87



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Gen, POV Second Person, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/pseuds/Rhiannon87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story doesn't really go into much detail about what became of Lazarus after he came back from the dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurrection

You died, once. Suffocated in the blackness of space while your ship burned around you. And it was hell, but at least it was quick, relatively speaking. And then Cerberus was thoughtful enough to bring you back. But the science of resurrection is a new one, and you're the prototype. Some malfunctions are to be expected. Or, you think in your more cynical moments, maybe they knew exactly what they were doing. You wreaked havoc with their organization, maybe they wanted to make sure that you wouldn't outlive your usefulness. Without the Reapers to distract you, you'd probably go after them again, and they couldn't have that.

It starts, about four months after the Reapers are gone, with tremors in your hands. First you chalk it up to exhaustion, then hunger, then when it gets worse you start finding pills that'll make it stop. The meds are only good for a little while, and it gets worse, and then one day Chakwas catches you raiding her medbay and forces you to let her do some tests. She doesn't have to say anything; the look on her face as she watches the readouts tells you everything. Pieces of you are failing, falling back to their natural state of dead. She's quiet for a long time when you ask how long you've got. It's not until you yell at her that she replies. Four months, at the outside. Probably less.

The Council is understanding and appropriately sorrowful, and that cynical part says they're probably glad to have the galaxy's biggest rabble rouser off their roster. Anderson reacts with denial, unsurprisingly, expecting you to fight this. Chakwas told you that you could buy another couple of years with transplants and surgeries, but you'd be spending most of your extended life in hospitals, and that idea just depresses you.

You kick everyone off the Normandy, put up with the tearful goodbyes and hugs because they need it. Then you force yourself to call all your people who weren't on the ship and tell them, let them cry and curse and tell you deserve better and that they always loved you, because they need it. You don't need any of it, don't _want_ any of it, but there's a stupid part of you that just can't stop being everyone else's savior.

Hours later, you head down to the CIC, and everyone’s gone except Joker and Chakwas, who’re on the bridge, talking. You’re surprised, for some reason, as you slowly walk towards them. (Always slowly, now, because your legs appear to be the next to go.) They look up at your approach, and fall silent. Joker looks a little guilty; Chakwas just straightens up and clasps her hands behind her back. You stare at them, waiting for an explanation. Eventually, Joker shrugs and manages a wry grin. Hell, Commander, the three of us have stuck together through everything, no reason to break tradition now, he tells you, and the part of you that had planned on wandering off into the Citadel and finding a dark hole to die in is angry at them. But mostly, you're grateful that you don't have to die alone.

You've said your goodbyes, and there isn't anywhere in particular you want to go, so you let Joker wander around the relay network. Chakwas mixes up medical cocktails that keep you moderately functional, or at least pain-free, so you can sit on the bridge or lay on your bed and watch the stars. Sometimes Joker will come up to your quarters with the latest ridiculous movie downloaded off the extranet and you'll sit and watch and laugh and pretend this isn't an extended funeral.

They both do a good job of putting on a brave face for you, and you're grateful for that, too. You're the one who's dying, you don't have the energy or the will to deal with their grief on top of everything else. Once, though, as you're coming off the elevator to grab a protein shake (and everything is liquids, now, because utensils are entirely out of the question, and quite frankly you don't trust your ability to chew anymore) you hear them talking. Joker's drunk, by the sound of it, and explaining to Chakwas how it's his fault you're dying again. He got you killed the first time, which made it necessary for Cerberus to bring you back, which put you in this situation of dying slowly by pieces. She tells him it's not his fault, and part of you feels like you should say something to him, but he wouldn't believe you anyway, so you just get back on the elevator.

Tonight (or maybe today, time doesn’t mean much in space, but you've been awake for a while so you're deeming it night), you wander to the bridge, leaning on the bulkheads and seats for support. You're pretty sure that in a few days, maybe a week, you won't be able to get out of bed. And that's when it's really going to be real, this whole dying thing. That’s when you’ll finally understand that you’re not going to get better.

Joker nods at you as you drop bonelessly into the navigator's seat at his side, and asks where you want to go. You stare out at the stars for a while, thinking, then you give him the name of a system you haven't been to in years. Unremarkable place, nothing habitable there, but it's a binary star system and you remember the sunrises were beautiful. The nice thing about being in space is you can get yourself into the right orbit and have your pilot give you sunrises on command.

He plots out the course, tells you it'll be about nine hours, and makes a crack about not dying before then because it's pretty far out of his way. The joke falls flat, mostly because he sounds kind of tortured saying it, but you smile anyway because the effort is nice. You promise to keep breathing until then, and lean back in the seat. You'll just close your eyes and sleep up here until you've arrived.


End file.
